Vincent
by peann1
Summary: A Van Gogh inspired love story between Ron and Hermione
1. Default Chapter

Vincent 

"…And so Hecate Ericdottir became Queen on the fourteenth of the month of Maandag and was succeeded by her son Helmut Hecatsson on the day of her death on the nineteen of the month of Maandv being just five years and seven months..." Hermione could feel her eyes drifting closed.  The fire was already starting to glow its last and the chair she was sitting in had grown a little too comfy- if she stayed there a minute longer she would fall asleep surrounded in its soft warm crimson velvet and all it would earn her was aching joints the next day.  So finally conceding defeat to tiredness she closed the leather bound _A Brief Magical History of the Royal Family of Heissven-Coburg-Tiranag_ and proceeded to pad her way gently up the staircase to her dormitory.  

            Once in bed Hermione found herself remembering the look on Ron's face as she produced that particular title: …_"You're mad you are." Ron had just turned to face her and as always the first thing he noticed was the book she was carrying- not the heavy bag on her back that any gentleman would have offered to carry, not even the withering look she was giving him for not offering to carry said bag. "Why'd you want to read that?"  "To feed to my pet dragon?! Why do you think?" she had wanted to reply but at that particular moment Draco Malfoy had decided to make his presence felt….  _Before Hermione could remember any further Lavender's "sinus trouble" had faded out and she was fast asleep.

*

            Groggily Hermione woke the next morning and looking at the clock on the dormitory wall she realised that breakfast was about to draw to a close and classes to begin.  She dressed and washed quickly donning regulation shirt, skirt and jumper and well as the extortionally priced prefect work robes with their fairy-stitched house crest and her prefect tie (fairy-made of course).  She often wondered how the Weasley's had managed to pay for their sons' prefect uniform as each crest and tie was individual to the owner.  She looked in the mirror, gave a sigh at the state of her hair and hastily bundled it up into a ponytail. Grabbing her bag she flew out the door and managed to slide into her seat beside Harry and Ron in Greenhouse number two seconds before Professor Sprout entered the room.

            "_Another_ late night, Hermione?" Harry exasperated and shook his head in dismay. "What will we do with you and all that partying?"  It took all of Hermione's self control not to turn and slap him as he sat there.  The rest of the morning (spent revising how to teach Deadly Nightshade anger management techniques which had been yesterday's practical) passed without any major catastrophe unless you counted Parvati falling of her stool and whacking Neville on the head a catastrophe.  As the bell rang the rest of the class drifted through the glass doors and in to the crisp autumn air but Professor Sprout held her back along with Neville.

            "Now dears don't be alarmed…I have some very exciting news for the both of you.  The European Council of Herbotonists have just written to me today to ask me to give a presentation in Genoa on the Principles of Anger Management in Flora! Now as I was saying I have exciting news for you…I want one of you to attend the Council with me and give a report on how you believe Anger Management effects Deadly Nightshade! Oooh won't it be wonderful! Now this will be open to the entire year group but I wanted to put it to my two brightest sunflowers first!"  All of this was said extremely quickly with little consideration for full stops or capital letters and as Hermione turned to leave she caught a glimpse of Neville's face.

            "What's the matter?" she asked concernedly.

            "Umm…nothing,"

            "Neville…."

            "Its just…it sounds like an amazing opportunity doesn't it." His voice had a definite hint of dismay about it.

            "Yes…" she replied slowly.

            "And you're going to go for it of course and so is the rest of the year.  Hermione, I want to go so much but there is not a chance…"

            "Neville 'course there is a chance. You heard what Professor Sprout said "my _two_ brightest sunflowers".  Neville- you are amazing at herbology.  At least give it a chance."

            As they went their separate ways Hermione couldn't help but feel that she hadn't helped Neville but at that particular moment she really had to get to arithmancy.

A/N: Okay big thank you for bothering to read this story.  Positive reviews will help me continue.  Sorry that the chapter was so short.  The idea for the story is still pretty loose – just a bundle of dreams really.  The title however is a different kettle of fish altogether.  It was inspired by the Don McClean song of the same name that I heard only for the second time on the Local Heroes Fame Academy Tour in Belfast when Malachi sang it.  (Was quite annoyed when David won – was anyone else? (Despite the fact that I supported him ever since Malachi left.)  I was just glad when Lemar didn't win cause he bored me to death for ten weeks et cetera.  Okay breath – rant over)!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except the idea!  


	2. teasing

Vincent  
  
Arithmancy passed quickly: the calculations seemingly flowing effortlessly from Hermione's brain to the paper. Perhaps it was the excitement of Professor Sprout's announcement or just that the ease of the work. That was the thing about arithmancy; it was almost like breathing for Hermione. When she had first taken it on in third year it had been a haven from the stress of the time turner and from that awful, awful fight she had had with Ron. Heavens. that boy was infuriating at times. Every difference in opinion had ended in a fight and more often than not they went to bed red faced and fuming at the other. Hermione could never figure him out. At primary school she'd been teased maliciously for her appearance and her bookish qualities but now Ron had grown passed the childish stage and his own once cutting comments were gentle fun and often backhanded compliments. At this point Hermione chose to look down on her work and found to her great embarrassment that her once clean jotter cover was covered with a familiar name: Ron Weasley Ron Weasley Ron Weasley, scrawled over and over again in her neat script. Professor Vector dismissed the class at that point and Hermione was left to deal with her own thoughts another time.  
  
As she left the room Hermione heard a yell and at that very moment the last person she wanted to set eyes on came flying down the corridor towards her. It was a sight to see: Ron Weasley a lanky, clumsy, red headed boy who had not quite grown in to his height or shoulders was running gracelessly down a corridor toward her with an inane smile on his face. He skidded to a stop in front of her and seeming rather sheepish after his display put his hands in his pockets and looking to the ground mumbled, " Er. umm. well done. Neville told us about the trip and I think it's a . er.fantastic opportunity and it's .. Unbelievable! Hermione - you didn't ever tell us about it and its great that you get to go.its just..." Hermione's face burnt bright red especially as she had not failed to notice the despondency in the final last few seconds of the speech. It had been a very confusing outburst and so all Hermione managed to muster in response was a puzzled,  
  
"Erm. Ron what are you on about?"  
  
It was now Ron's turn to look perplexed and said slowly, "The trip? To the Herbotonist thingy?"  
  
"OH!" Hermione exclaimed as the clouds lifted. "Ron nothing's certain yet. I mean I haven't even decided whether or not to enter yet and I would be up against the entire year group if I did."  
  
They had started walking toward the Great Hall for lunch, passing numerous rules being openly disregarded but Hermione found she was far too enraptured in Ron to bother with them, for once. How could it be that all of a sudden she found Ron's jaw line chiseled, angular, sexy. SEXY?! He had started in to his usual teasing Hermione Queen Bookworm routine about how of course she'd get it; it wasn't as if she wouldn't write five thousand words more than everyone else. And while doing so probably discovering a new technique never before tested but of course infallible technique on Plant anger management. She reached up a hand to give him a playful slap on the head and as hand and hair collided she felt a shiver of excitement run through her body. Ron turned and grabbed her arm, "Now, no fighting Miss Granger. You're a prefect you should know that!" Hermione's eyes narrowed in mock rage and didn't say anything more to him as they walked through the impressive arch that led to the Great Hall.  
  
The two were once again talking as they through their bags down beside Harry's and slid into their respective seats beside the Boy Who Lived. Harry looked stressed. His hair was even more tousled than normal (if possible) and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. The tome that lay open in front of him looked indecipherable. "Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione was confused. The last time she had seen Harry he had been more than a little carefree, happily chatting about new and improved methods of disemboweling Draco Malfoy so what had happened in the last two hours. Ron on the other hand was laughing.  
  
"Harry mate, what did he do to you?"  
  
Harry looked at his best friend scathingly. "Its all your fault you know.if it wasn't for you.. Hermione, guess what brilliant idea our best friend came up with?"  
  
"Umm. No idea."  
  
"He decided we should bunk off Divination and use the invisibility cloak to get away with it. However we decided no to put it on until we got out of the tower and he put it on first. So, just as I was about to put it on Snape comes around the corner wanting to know what I'm doing out of class!"  
  
"No!"  
  
"He then proceeds to, instead of giving me an ordinary detention he decided that I can stay of class as long as I help him with a new sleeping potion. He made me try it too and as if that's not bad enough he's giving me a test on it tonight as a detention."  
  
Ron looked at Harry and started another round of laughter. "Harry mate I'm so sorry but its still funny." Harry continued his scathing glares.  
  
*  
  
Hermione was in her favourite armchair again. The one she had almost drifted of to sleep in the previous night. The heavy book on her lap was different although its content was just as insipidly written. Harry had gone of to face his detention and Ron was sitting on the ground beside her chair, favouring Chudley Cannons Quarterly over his transfigurations calculations. Her left hand rested just inches above his head and she longed to reach out and touch it, to run her fingers through the fiery locks. It looked different than usual in the flickering light of the fire. Its harsh orange become shades of amber, sienna, some even seeming to resemble molten lava in amongst the dancing shadows. Slowly his eyes turned around to meet hers, "What's the matter?" his voice seemed like honey in sunshine to Hermione's ears  
  
"Have you got a dictionary - my one's upstairs?" Her excuse seemed lame even to her own ears. She sighed softly as he stared to rummage around in his bag. She couldn't believe she was falling for her best friend. She was only glad that Ginny was playing Gobstones at that particular time or else she would have been discovered almost immediately. A cough alerted her to the fact that Ron had found the dictionary.  
  
"Here you go. Er. careful it doesn't bite." With that he settled back down against the chair and continued to read Clara Cush's 'Diary of a Chaser". A biting dictionary. it was one of Fred and George's more original ways of making school fun. They had taken to enchanting a lot of household objects over the summer - Ron's just generally seemed to be a lot more dangerous than most.  
  
About an hour later Hermione felt the usual tiredness that accompanied late night studying wash over her and resigned herself to bed. On her way up to the dormitory she realized that this was one of the rare occasions they hadn't fought at bedtime. Maybe this crush was the start of something good.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/n: Firstly let me thank everyone who took the time to review chapter 1. Just a few notes to follow: remember all good things take time so let me develop this story first and you will see the mist all clear away about the title, plot etc, also if everyone could take to minutes to review it would be most appreciated. 1,000,000,000,000,000 bonus points to the person who can find the quote used in this chapter. Below is the song that inspired me to write this story for those of you who don't know it. It's beautiful.  
  
Vincent (Starry Starry Night)  
  
Don McClean  
  
Starry starry night  
  
Paint your palette blue and grey.  
  
Look out on a summer's day,  
  
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.  
  
Shadows on the hills  
  
Sketch the trees and the daffodils  
  
Catch the breeze and the winter chills  
  
In colors on the snowy linen land CHORUS:  
  
Now I understand what you tried to say to me.  
  
And how you suffered for your sanity,  
  
And how you tried to set them free  
  
They would not listen  
  
They did not know how  
  
Perhaps they'll listen now Starry starry night,  
  
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,  
  
Swirling clouds in violet haze,  
  
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.  
  
Colors changing hue,  
  
Morning fields of amber grain,  
  
Weathered faces lined in pain,  
  
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand. CHORUS For they could not love you,  
  
But still your love was true.  
  
And when no hope was left inside  
  
On that starry starry night,  
  
You took your life as lovers often do  
  
But I could have told you Vincent  
  
This world was never meant for one as beautiful as you... Starry starry night  
  
Portraits hung in empty halls,  
  
Frameless heads on nameless walls,  
  
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.  
  
Like the strangers that you've met  
  
The ragged men in ragged clothes,  
  
The silver thorn of bloody rose  
  
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow. Now I think I know  
  
What you tried to say to me,  
  
And how you suffered for your sanity,  
  
And how you tried to set them free.  
  
They would not listen,  
  
They're not listening still.  
  
Perhaps they never will. 


End file.
